Surreptition
by Jackilyn Hughes
Summary: Harry keeps secret receipts in his sock drawer, Hermione has some fun with her best friend's boyfriend's hair, Draco spies, and Ron isn't very good at 'surreptitious'. Rated R


Challenge: HP Triangle

Prompt: Harry/Ron/Draco, rated R

Two are in a relationship and one thinks the other is cheating. The third helps him investigate.

"Weasley." Ron jumped about a foot in the air at the address and whirled around, wand out, to face a sneering Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, put that away," the git said, gesturing to Ron's wand. "My boyfriend is your best friend – I'm not about to curse you." Ron glared, but dropped his wand hand anyway.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he growled. Draco hesitated visibly and averted his eyes. "Well?" Ron demanded, his interest piqued by Draco's reluctance.

"I need your help, Weasley," Draco finally bit out after a hefty, put-upon sigh. "With Harry."

"I _still_ don't get how you could possibly think Harry was cheating," Ron whined as they slipped into the restaurant about ten minutes after Harry had. Draco surreptitiously checked the place for his boyfriend (Ron wasn't very good at surreptitious) and requested the section he was sitting in, which was Smoking.

A cute darkish skinned waitress led them to a table about three away from Harry's. Ron opened his mouth to ask where she was from, but at a glare from Draco, he shut it again. Right. Tact. He knew that.

They'd both changed the colour of their hair and eyes so as not to be caught spying. Ron's hair was a rather fluffy brown with a few red streaks (to excuse his orange freckles, which were too much of a hassle to conceal) with dark grey-green eyes and a pair of no-prescription frameless glasses. Draco, to the endless amusement of both Ron and Hermione, now sported bright red hair and sky-blue eyes. And of course a scowl. Always the scowl. Ron really didn't know what Harry saw in the bloke.

"Look!" said Draco, gesturing to Harry's table with an incline of the head. Ron looked. A busty black-haired woman was grinning and waving at Harry and heading for his table. Harry stood up to greet her.

"Maybe she's just a friend and she's not even who Harry's meeting," Ron suggested. The woman sat down, lit a cigarette, and ordered her drink. "Okay, but Harry likes blokes, not birds," Ron tried again. Harry reached across the table and clasped the woman's hand in his, leaned in close to her face and whispered in her ear. She giggled.

"Er," said Ron. He thought for a second, and then sat back confidently in his chair, scenario formulated. "Bet he doesn't really like her. Bet he's just hitting on her to make her think he likes her to get something from her."

"Oh, you mean like sex?" Draco snapped icily.

"Yeah!" crowed Ron gleefully, glad Draco had caught on. Then, realizing what he'd said, "No. No, no." But Draco was already up and halfway to the door.

"Damn," Ron swore. Harry's mystery woman giggled again. The dark-skinned waitress came over to Ron's table. "Right. How much do I owe?" he asked. And, "Er… Where are you from?"

"Maaallfooooyy." Ron drew out the word in a long, high-pitched groan. Draco wrinkled his nose. He'd known before that Weasley was annoying, but he'd never suspected _this_ much. How did Harry stand to be his friend? "What are you doing at my house so early?"

"It's ten past nine, Weasley," Draco drawled, raising a disgusted eyebrow.

"I _know_," whined Ron, as if being aware of the time was the end of the world. He stopped pouting and stood straighter. "Look, Malfoy," he said. "I'm really not a morning person, so spit out whatever it is you want and get out, before I hex your bollocks off." Draco's expression of distaste intensified.

"Was it not a mere few days ago that you agreed to help me discover the identity of Harry's mistress?" the blonde sneered.

"Well, yeah," Ron agreed, though he still didn't open the screen door to let Draco in. "But getting up at nine in the morning was not in the job description."

"He's got a breakfast date, Weasley," snapped Draco. "And I can't see the back of my head. I need your bloody wife to fix my hair for me."

"Those are hardly manners that will get you into someone else's home, Draco." Hermione Weasley stood in the hall behind her husband with her hands on her hips and a disapproving glare. "And those, Ronald –" She put her hands on Ron's shoulders and moved him away from the door. "– are hardly the manners of a host." Hermione peeled back the screen door and stood aside for Draco to come in. "What colour this time, then?"

"Not red," Draco growled with a glare at Hermione over his shoulder. She smiled.

"Black?"

"Acceptable." Draco sat in the chair Hermione pointed out for him, his back to the rest of the room and his front to nothing until Hermione conjured a mirror to float before him.

"And you, Ronald, I'll give golden locks," she said as she ran her wand delicately through Draco's thin hair. She ruffled it a little, ignoring his scowl, and then walked around to face him, deciding what to do with his eyes this time.

"Who said I was going!" yelped Ron indignantly. It was much too early for this. Hermione looked up from Draco and pinned her husband with her McGonagall-glare.

"I did." Ron gulped quietly, then rolled his eyes to the ceiling in resignation.

"Yes, dear."

The diner was a small, decrepit place in a small, decrepit muggle town. It boasted 'the best breakfast money can buy' and the seats were arranged in one row of booths and a bar, all with sticky red nylon seat cushions. It smelled like burnt bacon and breakfast sausage and was filled with the soft clinks of spoons stirring tea or coffee and the rough voices of the regulars.

Upon entry, Draco and Ron stood in the doorway like idiots, gaping around at the various customers. Most were greying old men who had cheerfully familiar conversations with their waitresses. They smoked cigars and ordered The Usual along with 'an extra glass of milk today, Sherrie, if that'll be alright.'

Harry and his mystery woman, whom Draco had dubbed That Whore, were sitting together at a booth in the back of the diner, Harry stirring sugar into his tea ("Two lumps," Draco muttered angrily. "Bet That Whore didn't know how many lumps of sugar he has in his tea before today. Stupid bint.") and her sipping cola through a straw. Draco chose to seats for them in the centre of the bar, which currently was nearly empty.

"What'll it be for you two gents, then?" The waitress was of average height and average weight and had an average hair colour with average eyes. Her uniform looked good on her, but she'd look much better in jeans and her hair was slipping slowly out of the pony tail she had it tied back into. She leaned on the bar in front of them on her elbows and grinned quirkily. Draco sniffed.

"Just tea, please, thank you," he said. The waitress nodded and looked to Ron.

"Erm. Could I have the Big Man's Pancake Platter with an extra helping of bacon, eggs, and sausage and, um, some orange juice? Yeah." The look of awed disgust that Draco gave him almost made Ron laugh.

They sat in silence while with their tea while Ron's food was prepared, watching Harry and the mystery woman out of the corners of their eyes. The two flirted with each other like there was no tomorrow; they shared their food, they held hands, they brushed each other's hair out of their eyes, everything. The woman giggled and blushed at nearly everything Harry said ("Slut," Draco hissed into his tea).

"But wait!" Ron sat up straighter, setting down his tea. "If Harry was cheating, why would he make a _breakfast_ date when you'd notice he was gone?" Draco glared at Ron over the lip of his mug.

"I was supposed to be into work an hour ago."

"Oh." Ron's face fell. For a second there, he thought he'd found the hole in the entire situation, that bit of illogic that would point out how Harry was most definitely not cheating. But he hadn't, apparently, and now the pancakes were here. He sighed, and dug in.

"Can't you do anything at a reasonable hour, Malfoy!" Ron snapped in exasperation. It was eleven thirty at night and Draco was on Ron's doorstep again.

"There's a midnight showing of Romeo and Juliet that Harry and That Whore are going to tonight." Draco looked rather frantic, not that Ron could tell as well as some.

"Malfoy, I have to work tomorrow."

"So do I. Let me in."

"No way. How do you even know where he's taking her?"

"Receipts, Weasley," said Draco pulling a wad of them and what looked suspiciously like letters from his pocket, "are unwise to keep in your sock drawer." Ron rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going. It's just a bloody play; you'll only need one pair of eyes anyway." Ron put his hand on the door, preparing to close it in Draco's face.

"It's _Romeo and Juliet_, Weasley." Draco's voice rose in volume and pitch with his hysteria. "That is _not_ 'just a bloody play'!"

"Alright, alright, okay!" Ron held up his hands in surrender, grabbed his cloak, yelled over his shoulder to tell his wife where he was going, and stepped out.

"Whoa, would you look at that."

"That Whore. Pass the Cockroach Clusters."

"Jeez, I didn't even know it was possible to get your face that close to someone else's."

"Are they kissing? Can you tell? He better not be kissing That Whore. She'll give him something."

"Just by kissing him?"

"If anyone could do it, she could. Pass the Cockroach Clusters."

"I don't – I don't think they're kissing, Draco. I think they're just staring deeply into each other's eyes."

"That Whore. Pass the Cockroach Clusters."

"How does staring deeply into someone's eyes make her a whore?"

"Because that someone is _my_ boyfriend. Would you pass the bloody Cockroach Clusters, already?"

"Oh, right, yeah. Here." Ron and Draco stared down two rows at Harry and his mystery woman, munching on the Cockroach Clusters they'd brought with them to sneak into the theatre, both gaping (when they weren't chewing) and neither blinking. They leaned over each other's plastic arm rests, Draco holding the bag of Clusters between them.

"Did you see that? She could be a contortionist just with her neck!"

"That Whore."

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "Yeah, seriously." _Crunch, crunch, crunch._

"Oh, oh no. Look at this guy. Come on!"

"Hey, get out of our way. You're blocking the view."

"Ah," said the heavyset man that'd just sat in front of them. "You can see fine." The two young wizards glared at him, and then – clinging to each other and their bag of Cockroach Clusters – leaned together in Draco's direction, trying to see around the man.

"Just a bit farther, I can almost see them," Draco muttered, pulling Ron a little closer to him so that the redhead could almost see too. "There. There! See?"

"No, I can't. I can't see." Ron leaned heavier on Draco, resulting in the two of them falling out of their seats and spilling their Cockroach Clusters all over the concrete theatre floor.

"Get off of me, you slob!" Draco shrieked, pushing Ron away.

"I'm a slob? You're the one who fell out of his seat!"

"You fell too!" With a huff, Ron collapsed back into his seat, bereaving the loss of the Cockroach Clusters. There was a pause, with Draco peering over the back of the seats in front of them from the floor.

"Can you see them?" asked Ron excitedly. He got back onto the ground and the two watched Harry and his woman over the back of the same chair for the rest of the play.

"Alright, Weasley." Ron jumped and splotched ink over his parchment at the sound of Draco's voice suddenly coming out of his office fireplace. "Here's the plan."

"There's a plan?"

"Of course there's a plan, you dolt, how would anybody get anything done if there wasn't?"

"I really do _not_ get what Harry sees in you, Malfoy."

"Your loss. Anyway, the plan," said Draco, his pointed chin looking odd amidst the curvy and constantly moving flames. His silver eyes sparkled like mercury. Maybe that was it, Ron speculated. "We're both taking off work early today –"

"You and Harry?"

"No, are you a _complete_ idiot?" Draco snapped. "You and I, Weasley, are taking off work early today –"

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Since when do you always get your way?"

"Since forever, Weasley, where've you been?" Draco rolled his eyes with an exasperated shake of his head, making the flames near his ears sputter. "Now, Harry's not going to know about this, Weasley, he's going to think I'm still at the office –"

"So what you're saying is, we're going to lie to him."

"No, Weasley, we're going to keep a secret from him," sighed Draco dramatically. "Big difference. But for all intents and purposes, I suppose, yes, we are going to lie. Is it really so hard to understand?"

"You completely missed my point."

"I couldn't care less about your point, Weasley. Now, my plan. No interruptions this time alright?" Draco glared up at Ron, and Ron glared down from his desk with a tiny frown. But he couldn't claim not to be interested. Not honestly, anyway.

"Fine."

"Good. So, with me out of his way for a reasonably large set amount of time, Harry will feel free to take That Whore home with him. And then I'll confront him. And have the immense pleasure of kicking That Whore back onto the street corner where she belongs."

After a brief moment of silence to show respect to Draco's insulting skilz, Ron wondered, "And you need me for what?"

"Second opinion and a second set of eyes, Weasley," Draco replied. "Two heads are always better than one – trust me, I would know." Ron grimaced. "And anyway, with you there he can't claim That Whore isn't what she looks like. You've seen everything. I've got evidence." There was another pause for Ron to think this all over. He sighed deeply.

"Alright, Malfoy. Where should I meet you?"

Harry unlocked the entrance of his and Draco's house and held the door for his 'mistress'. He dropped his keys in the paw-shaped plate Draco hated that Harry used specially for random bits and bobs he needed to divest his pockets of when he came in everyday.

"So what d'you think happened?" Harry's 'date' asked. She was obviously very comfortable in Harry's home. "Didn't you leave enough clues?"

"I thought I did," Harry answered, taking her coat. His hands brushed intimately at her shoulders, exposed by the backless dress she wore. She didn't seem to notice. "But apparently not."

As Harry hung her coat up on the snake-like coat hanger (Draco's) beside his own pawprint key-dish, he thought he heard her clothes rustle with friction, but when he turned back she hadn't moved.

Harry stared at her for a while, across the short few steps from where she was standing to the coat hanger. She was very beautiful. She had straight black hair that went halfway down her neck and framed her lightly freckled face very nicely. Her dark eye-shadow made her eyes look as starlit as the night sky, and their deep blue appeared as dark. The low cut of her dress revealed quite a bit of impressive cleavage, which Harry's eyes passed over approvingly. She had legs that went straight up to bloody Norway, and she seemed to enjoy showing them off. Harry grinned widely and stepped closer to her.

She gave him a rather wry looking smile with a raised eyebrow, asking, "What are you so happy about, then?" Harry ran his hands up her bare arms, his grin widening.

"It just feels nice to be… alone…" he said, his voice a little lower than it had been before. She looked surprised and confused. He winked at her. Realization coloured her face and she giggled and blushed and snuggled deep into Harry's strong arms. She placed her head gently on his shoulder, putting her lips as close as possible to his neck without actually touching it.

"Don't tease," he whispered. She only smirked.

In the closet across the hall (they'd been lucky Harry had used the coat hanger for That Whore's jacket rather than it), Draco and Ron watched the proceeds with interest. Draco was outraged and Ron was appalled. How could this possibly be happening?

"Alright, Weasley," Draco growled through gritted teeth. "Time for that confrontation I told you about."

"Right," said Ron. "Kick his proverbial arse." Draco raised an eyebrow in Ron's general direction.

"I wasn't aware your vocabulary was wide enough to include 'proverbial', Weasley." He sounded vaguely impressed. Ron glared.

"Would you just go thump him?"

"Right," said Draco, and he marched out of the closet.

"Alright, Potter," Draco purred dangerously, planting his hands on his hips. "I want to know what you think you're doing, fraternizing with _her_ in _my_ house, and I want to know it now."

"Hello, Draco," Harry answered calmly. He turned slowly away from That Whore and faced his boyfriend with a bland look on his face. Draco was taken aback. Harry didn't sound or appear nervous, or surprised, or… anything. Was it possible… did he… not care? "I don't see any particular problem with entertaining my friends."

"Friends?" Draco all but shrieked. "You were going to have sex!" He pointed an accusing finger, but it didn't have the desired effect. Both Harry and That Whore pulled a face, shuddered, and took a step away from each other. Draco pretended not to notice, lest he admit to his failed dramatics.

"I want That Whore out of my house, Potter," he said instead. "And if you've got a bloody problem with it, you can follow her." Harry gave him a mildly disapproving look and clicked his tongue.

"Come on, Draco." Harry rolled his eyes, the green irises rising cutely above the frames of his glasses before sinking down again. "There's no reason to call Hermione a whore." Draco blanked, but then quickly retrieved his equilibrium.

"You can't honestly think me so stupid as to believe _that_ is Granger."

"It's Weasley, actually," That Whore snapped. "You _did_ attend our wedding. I saw you." Draco snorted.

"Get her out." Harry had the audacity to smirk at him. Then he drew his wand, pointed it carelessly at That Whore, and said smoothly, "_Finite_."

That Whore's features changed abruptly, smooth black hair morphing immediately into bushy brown curls. Her freckles became slightly more prominent, and her eyes reverted to chocolate brown. Her eye-shadow faded and her bra-size went down a cup. Draco blinked.

"You were cheating on me with _Granger_?" He tried to sound insulted and horrified, rather than hurt, but he wasn't sure whether it had worked or not. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's Weasley, and there was never any cheating on anybody's part. We were making you think Harry was lusting after some stranger behind your back, so that you'd appeal to Ron for help investigating and the two of you would hopefully learn to operate civilly with each other. Has it worked? Because if it hasn't, Harry and I really will have to have sex, and that won't be pleasant for anyone," she threatened.

"We get along fine," Draco assured quickly.

"Good," Hermione replied. She pulled her jacket off the coat hanger and slipped it around her shoulders. "I have to go anyway, Harry. Ron should be home from work soon, and no doubt the pig will want dinner when he gets there." She _tsk_ed and rolled her eyes, moving toward the door. As she left, she wiggled her fingers flirtatiously at Harry in goodbye. He raised an eyebrow seductively back.

When the door shut, Draco grabbed his boyfriend by the front of his robes and slammed him against the wall.

"You realize," he snarled. "That you're going to have to deal with a jealous fit now, right?"

"'Course." Harry's grin returned and he gladly allowed Draco to manhandle him. "That was the bonus part of the scenario. For me, at least."

Draco growled and bit the side of Harry's neck hard. His teeth dug into the sensitive skin there and he flexed his jaw, rubbing the flesh against itself. Harry gasped and leaned his head back against the wall, giving Draco more room. At the same time, Draco fumbled with the buttons of Harry's dress shirt, before giving up and grabbing fistfuls of material, aiming to rip the shirt open. In his frustration, his teeth pressed harder on Harry's skin, and he moaned loudly, putting his hands on Draco's shoulders and gripping them for dear life. Finally, Draco achieved his goal and ran his palms roughly over Harry's nipples. Harry gasped again at the heady rush of his blood rerouting downward.

Ron's eyes were as big around as they could possibly stand to be without falling right out of his head. He couldn't decide if he wanted to be watching this or not – his mind was sticking with one conclusion, while his… other endowments went with the other. There was no denying that the sounds Harry was making were sexy, even if you weren't into guys. Ron heard the grating of a zip coming down and quickly closed his eyes.

Seconds later, at a brilliantly tormented whimper from Harry, Ron couldn't resist slitting open one eyelid and peeking. What he glimpsed before squeezing his eyes shut again was Harry, pantsless, one of Draco's hands behind him and one in front and Draco's mouth everywhere else. Harry himself was pulling on his own hair, looking wide-eyed up at the ceiling as his hips bucked into Draco's rapidly (and harshly, if Ron could be trusted to see details) moving hand. Harry's back arched away from the wall.

"Draco," he gasped, breathless. That was when Ron's lids covered his eyes again, but he was too petrified by mortification to cover his ears.

"What, Harry?" Draco purred. Harry whimpered. "You know," Draco continued conversationally. "It always amazes me how much I still affect you, even though we're practically old." Harry snorted.

"Draco, we're only in – in our late t-twenties."

"Like I said, practically old."

"That's not –" Ron heard a sudden rustle, and Harry was cut off with his own intense moan of pleasure, and Ron saw him arch off the wall again in his mind's eye.

"Put your arms higher over your head," Draco commanded, and Ron tried not to imagine that too. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"Everything," said Harry.

"Anything?" asked Draco.

"Yes."

"O-kaay." Draco drew out the word, and to Ron it sounded ominous, but judging from Harry's faint moan-ish-sounding noise it meant good things for him. "Why don't I describe the procedure to you, then?"

"Yes." Ron thought it might be possible for him to blush worse than he had as a kid in the near future.

"I'm going to prepare you first, Harry. With my fingers. In your arse. Do you think I should use lube? I don't think I will, this time. I think this time a little sting will be good for you. Don't you think so?"

"Yes."

"Good. After that, I'm going to slam you up against this wall –" It sounded like Draco demonstrated. "– and put my leg in between yours like this –" Harry moaned. "– and press my thigh into you until you beg me to stop. Will you beg, Harry?"

"Yes."

"Good." Draco was a little breathless now himself, and Ron tried very, very hard to block everything out, and to deny that he was turned on. "And then I'm going to spread your legs, Harry. I'm going to spread them until you look like a slut. Do you like that? Do you like the idea of being a slut for me?"

"Yes." Draco did something that caused Harry to cry out, and Ron felt his own blood heat up considerably at the implications of what Harry was feeling. He resisted the temptation to undo his fly.

"And then I'll slam into you, Harry. Until you can't remember anybody else's name."

"Pleasepleaseplease," said Harry. Ron decided it was time to leave. He wondered if he could sneak out of the place unnoticed or if he'd be forced to embarrass himself.

"What was that, Harry?"

"Please!" Now would be a good time, Ron thought, and he stood and pushed the closet door outward, trying to surreptitiously slide toward the front door.

"Ron?!" Harry yelped.

"Weasley!" Draco whirled around and pressed back protectively against Harry, inadvertently grinding his arse into Harry's groin. Harry moaned and bit his lip.

"Draco!" he complained. Draco smirked and rolled his hips. A long, drawn-out, needy sound spilled from Harry's lips and Ron fled out the door, slamming it rather loudly behind him.

Ron wasn't very good at surreptitious.


End file.
